


a million little gods

by cosmicsymphony



Category: Trying Human
Genre: Gen, content warning: mention of vomiting, content warning: sibling death, content warning: unhealthy coping mechanisms, if you're looking for family fluff, please heed the warnings, this ain't it, this is not a happy story, who is surprised? not i, yet another headcanon-based fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 07:40:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14208372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicsymphony/pseuds/cosmicsymphony
Summary: "The first thing Magnus does after the funeral is lock himself in his room and punch a hole in the wall.It’s a terrible reaction, he knows this, can practically see Brevis shaking his head in disappointment. But Brevis isn’t around now to sigh and rub his temples and tell Magnus he needs to be better, and never will again."A (very short) fic about Magnus in the aftermath of Brevis' death.





	a million little gods

**Author's Note:**

> So. Before you say anything, yes, I am aware Magnus is a steaming sack of shit of a 'person'. However, what I want to know is WHY he's like that. I remember a line in the webcomic where Brevis makes an offhand comment about Quazky and Longus reminding him of Magnus and himself when they were young. 
> 
> To me, at least, that suggests Brevis and Magnus were very close at one point, and present-day Magnus does not seem like the type to let anyone in. Don't get me wrong: I don't think Magnus was ever really 'nice', but I can't help but wonder if the trauma of losing his younger brother affected him more deeply than he let on (hint: I think it did) and is one of the main reasons (if not THE main reason) he's as awful as he is today. I could also be looking into this way too much. Oh well. Such is the nature of a writer.

The first thing Magnus does after the funeral is lock himself in his room and punch a hole in the wall.

It’s a terrible reaction, he knows this, can practically see Brevis shaking his head in disappointment. But Brevis isn’t around now to sigh and rub his temples and tell Magnus _he needs to be better,_ and never will again. He will never go to another party and get drunk on Pleiadian beer with his friends and sing ditties they only know half the words to. Will never hunt for cattle and pigs on Earth and send the Majestic idiots running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Will never stargaze from the mothership after an exhausting day of training. Will never do fucking _anything_ ever again.

Magnus still hasn’t processed this, not really, and it’ll probably be a long time before he does. If he ever does at all.

It’s like the universe is playing some twisted prank on him, which is a selfish thought (at least Brevis would think so) because almost every Draconian he knows has lost at least one family member prematurely. He’s not special. And yet, Magnus can’t help but feel this is all just a joke, because older brothers aren’t supposed to outlive younger ones. They just _aren’t_. It’s not natural.

 _That’s silly now, Magnus,_ chides a voice in his head that sounds very much like Brevis, _there are no laws governing death. It takes whomever it likes whenever it likes. No death is unnatural because death itself_ is _natural. You ought to know this._

“But I don’t,” Magnus croaks, “and it doesn’t matter if I know it or I don’t. Nothing will change.”

 _“Well,”_ says Brevis-in-his-head, _“the number of bruises on your knuckles might change. Once you understand death is, in fact, a very natural thing and there’s no use beating yourself up about it.”_

“I _do_ understand,” Magnus growls, and he’s suddenly aware of how mad he must look, talking to the air. “I understand death as well as anyone. It’s just - I - you - you weren’t _supposed_ to die!”

He screams the last word, spits it from his mouth as though it’s spoiled meat. Brevis-in-his-head falls silent, vanishing as quickly as he'd arrived. _How fitting,_ Magnus thinks bitterly. Even in his grief-soaked mind, he cannot make Brevis stay.

Magnus, in a desperate attempt to take his mind off the searing pain in his hand, thinks back to when he and Brevis lost their parents. It had been at the height of the war with the Nordics, when the amount of bloodshed was almost blasphemous. Father had been killed in battle and Mother had sickened and followed him in death not long after. Losing them had been awful, of course, and Magnus hadn’t realized it was possible to feel that much sorrow. It'd been sharp, cutting, and he’d shed enough tears to last him for the rest of his life. And yet he’d known they were bound to precede him in death. Had they gone earlier than he’d wanted? Yes, but it was inevitable. It was just the way of the things.

But not once had he imagined a life Brevis was no longer in.

He remembers the night Brevis told him he was in love with that Terran. _Longus._ That was his name.

 _“Please don’t say anything to him. To anyone. This can’t ever get out. We’ll all be punished if it does,”_ Brevis had whispered to him, his voice raw and pleading. Magnus wasn’t sure what to say to Brevis then: he couldn’t lie and say it was all right, because it wasn’t. Draconians and Terrans were highly discouraged from becoming overly familiar with each other. Disregarding this was to risk not just one's own reputation, but one's family's as well. Everyone knew that. Longus knew it. Brevis most certainly knew it. And yet, when his brother had met his gaze, a look of fear and desperation on his face - a look Magnus hadn’t seen for a long, long time - he’d taken Brevis into his arms and held him tightly, and for a few minutes, they were children again.

_“I won’t say anything. I promise.”_

While Magnus had indeed kept his word, something changed between the two of them after that night. Brevis caught on to Magnus’ disapproval of his feelings for the Terran - _for Longus_  - and turned cool and aloof, spending the little free time he had with the object of his affections and Quazky, when the latter was not flirting with Magnus’ betrothed. Where there once had been deep love and trust was now wariness and uncertainty, a constant waiting for the other to go nuclear at any moment.    

Now there is no chance of ever regaining what they had, and Magnus feels like his throat is on fire: he’s not sure if it’s ash or bile. He gets his answer a moment later, when his legs give out and he vomits all over the floor. It’s disgusting, he hates himself for it, but there’s nothing else he can do.  

He wonders what Gracelis would think, if she saw him like this, curled up on the ground and reeking of his own sick. What Longus would think. He can hear Longus in his mind, jeering at him.

 _“Not so tough now, are you?”_  Longus-in-his-head sneers, reedy and cruel.

He tells the voice to go fuck itself, but this only makes it laugh.

Magnus wishes it would just _stop_.

_“Is that all you've got? How pathetic. No wonder Brevis hated you in the end.”_

Magnus shrieks every vile swear word he knows at it, hurls them like daggers, until he’s just flat-out screaming at the top of his lungs. When Magnus is finally forced to stop - he's pretty sure he's torn his vocal cords to shreds - the voice appears to have fucked off.

_Shithead._

Magnus hopes Brevis-in-his-head will return soon. If he’s going to be having delusions, he should at least hope for the less vitriolic of the two.

**Author's Note:**

> the title comes from the song "wake up" by arcade fire, if anyone was interested!


End file.
